Blaine Harkness
by FriendlyFangirl11
Summary: Blaine's last name isn't actually Anderson, it's Harkness.  Jack is his father.  Fill of a Pompt of the Angst Meme.
1. Chapter 1

Wearing multiple buttons was tacky enough, but the fact that most of Kurt's buttons were pink crossed a serious line. Not for Blaine, who had proudly clipped no fewer than three "Vote Kurt Hummel" buttons onto his outfit, but for Kurt, who had scolded him for the blatant fashion faux pas and stolen back two of them. Blaine had mostly just been entertained by the way Kurt tried to pretend he was more upset than he was grateful and had used the entire conflict to his advantage. He waited until the end of lunch to propose a solution.

"Mini-buttons?" Kurt echoed in disbelief.

"We can order the supplies online." Blaine began. "More buttons with less paper and it stops being tacky to have six of them on my bag."

"Six...!" Kurt echoed again, leaning back to check. Blaine reached out to steady him as they walked, using the distraction to pull Kurt past the side hall. Blaine was laughing, and Kurt had just begun to join him before realizing "oh, we missed your turn." Kurt started to turn to go back.

They had this fight every day. At first, it had been romantic, but Blaine worried it would wear thin by graduation. He shook his head and took Kurt's elbow. "That's because today, I'm walking you to class." Blaine frowned at the sudden change of expression on Kurt's face. How suddenly Kurt's bright blue eyes darkened and looked around warily.

Mornings were easy, their classes were only a few doors apart, but lunch was the last time they could feasibly see each other until Glee Club. So when it came time to part they became reluctant to say goodbye. Their last attempt to past at the corner had led to breaking their no kissing in public rule and being sent to Figgins office for PDA. So who would walk whom to class had become a source of daily tension. Blaine hated the look Kurt got whenever Blaine walked him to class. That silent double-checking for danger that Blaine didn't really care to concern himself with.

At first, Blaine had thought it was a masculinity thing and had caved readily. Losing the role of Tony on the basis of not being manly enough was a huge blow for Kurt's ego and Blaine understood. Then, when Kurt's campaign had taken a distinctly negative turn and Blaine had walked him to class. The moment they'd arrived, Kurt's distress had turned to fear and he'd demanded Blaine text him as soon as he got to his classroom. Blaine had complied with the text, but he would always hate that look.

He'd put up with it though, most of the time. Kurt was only looking out for him. Today though, it was just a little too familiar and Blaine had no intention of putting up with it. "Kurt..." he quietly protested "...Stop it."

The look persisted. Worse, it got suddenly colder. "Blaine, Puck told me the truth about how you got that bruise." Blaine winced, as much from the way Kurt's eyes seemed to bore into him as from the memory of his shoulder impacting a combination lock. The fear and the disappointment that Kurt's expression had taken on was suddenly too much. Yes, he'd lied, but this was spiraling in the worst way possible. Blaine looked away. "I just want to know you're safe."

Before Blaine realized what had happened, he'd recoiled from Kurt's touch. It got rid of that look, replacing it with hurt. Blaine almost didn't notice. Kurt's eyes...Kurt's words...normally, Kurt was just Kurt. Today though...the reminder was less subtle. More present. Blaine couldn't quite swallow back his bitterness and words escaped he'd never meant to share. "You know, sometimes you sound just like my father." he didn't give Kurt time to react. The guilt started the moment he turned his back. He could feel Kurt behind him, already perusing. He didn't quite register the stronger presence ahead when he turned the corner until he caught sight of that damn unmistakable coat.

Blaine froze and took a long, deep breath. Smell was the strongest sense tied to memory, and that man's pheromones were as powerful as ever. For most people in the area, that caused eyes to fill with ether admiration or curiosity as they passed him. For the genetically similar enough, and therefore the immune, the vague scent only produced familiarity. No wonder the look Kurt had been giving him had gotten to him so much.

Kurt came up behind him and Blaine felt the other boy stop at his shoulder. He didn't dare look back at his boyfriend. He was terrified he'd see fascination in Kurt's eyes and was nearly overwhelmed by the thought. The tense bubble that had formed around them burst with a rather simple greeting. "hello, Blaine."

Rage. It wasn't something Blaine felt often but now, trapped between the two most importiant men in his life, rage was the emotion that shook his voice. "Hello, Dad."

That man's gaze shifted uncomfortably between Blaine and Kurt. He knew he was intruding with his mere presence. Good. Blaine couldn't keep his lip from curling, but he kept the snarl out of his voice when he asked "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing you." Simple answer, half truth. Too easy to read. His dad was slipping. The realization unbalanced Blaine. "I was hoping to take you to lunch. I guess I'm a bit late." Blaine felt his scowl fade. Because the annoying, overbearing, absentee he knew was missing. Instead, the man before him seemed like an empty husk of that person. There was only one explanation. "I...suppose...I'll see you at dinner then."

"I'm eating at Kurt's." Blaine felt drained. The response was automatic. Truthful, but free of the venom he'd imagined himself saying it with only moments ago. He couldn't lash out at his father right now. The fact that he could see his words, even in their empty state, stride him like bullets said everything.

"I could call Carole." Kurt offered. It had been months since Blaine had heard Kurt sound that meek. In fact, if he'd never heard it again it would still have been too soon. A little bit of anger seeped back. "See if there's room for one more?"

Blaine finally turned and looked at Kurt. It was almost a relief to see he just looked uncomfortable. Blaine knew his father was a powerful presence and yes, he was jealous of that. Blaine offered Kurt a smile which became suddenly genuine when it was returned by a relieved grin of Kurt's own. "That'd be great, thanks."

Kurt was so visibly relieved that it seemed to sap the tension from the air. "No trouble whatsover." he assured, then Kurt spoke directly to his father. "I'll have Blaine contact you with directions when I have an answer?"

"That would work perfectly." there was that hundred watt smile that Blaine wanted to hit his father for using on his boyfriend. Hello anger, you weren't gone long. "Thank you, Kurt."

"Quite all right, Mr. Anderson." Kurt Hummel, ever the diplomat. The threat that Kurt would actually get along with his father, or much worse, overwhelmed him.

So when his father replied "Please, call me Jack." Blaine just nodded at both of them and stormed off to class in the most subdued and dignified silence he could manage. Unfortunately, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it somehow still managed to be a fit that would do Rachel Berry proud.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine hated him too. Jack didn't know why he'd expected anything else. It wasn't like he actually deserved to have any family left. Honestly, this visit was his last attempt to make any sort of life on earth. If the way Blaine looked at him was any indication, he'd be moving on soon.

Kurt. Impeccably dressed and a smooth demeanor that barley masked deep-seated trauma. It was obvious they'd been fighting already, his presence had only made it worse. Kurt seemed to be studying him now, assessing. Jack was struck by a similarity he didn't want to think about. The coll analysis happening just below the warm smile wasn't an expression he'd been on the receiving end since...well, since he first got a pet pterodactyl. He didn't want to think about how similar his son's taste in men seemed to be to his own. Kurt made the comparison not to make. "Jack." he amended, a shard of ice in his voice. "Let's be clear on something." Jack nodded in agreement. "I know my step mother, and there most likely will be a place for you at dinner. However, you will be a guest in my home and will abide by certain rules. The first of these rules is simply if you so much as mildly offend Blaine in any way you will be out on your ass faster than everyone responsible for the atrocity Spiderman : The Musical, do I make myself clear?"

"You make yourself perfectly clear." Jack recognized the feel and sound of his own dopy grin. Kurt wasn't quite glaring at him and Jack felt the expression tug at his heart in a way he doubted a smile would. "What are the other rules?"

Kurt answered without hesitation. "Offend my father and I take no responsibility for your continued safety."

Jack raised an eyebrow. He could see Kurt slowly getting frustrated and wanted to laugh so badly. Of course, laughing at Kurt just wasn't a good idea. Certain hosts would always find ways to retaliate. Still, threatening with violence from his father? It was amusing, in an actually rather painful way. So he just nodded. "Understood. Anything else?"

Apparently, Kurt had seen through him. Because the only response was "yes. Never laugh at me." before turning on his heal and walking away. Jack barley caught his eyes in time to keep them from wandering. His son already hated him, checking out said son's boyfriend's ass wouldn't help that relationship.

Jack almost didn't notice the lights flicker as he walked out the front door of McKinley High School.


	3. Chapter 3

The third time the lights flickered in the Hummel-Hudson house, Kurt went upstairs to make sure Carrole had a backup plan for dinner if the power went out. Blaine used the moment to assess and prepare Kurt's room. He'd always known, since he first visited, that it could never be a viable retreat; but Kurt owned enough flammable substances, heavy objects and other things that could be improvised as weapons that Blaine assumed this would be the best place if a stand became necessary. In the few moments Kurt was gone, Blaine let his mask drop and rushed to subtly rearrange things to be easier to grab in a hurry. He was suppose to be done by the time Kurt got back.

"Blaine?"

A long time ago, Blaine had overheard an anecdote his father that had included the question 'I mean, how do you explain to your boyfriend that your rearranging his vanity so his hairspray will be on hand to use as a flamethrower?'. Back then, Blaine had thought it was a ridiculous story, no realistic basis at all. What were the odds he wound end up living that exact moment?

He didn't have to explain though. To his surprise, Kurt didn't ask. "Oh, Blaine." Kurt took his hand. Blaine let himself be led to the edge of the bed and set down. The Kurt sat behind him and started massaging his neck and shoulders. Kurt's grip was weak but his touch was precise and sure and Blaine melted. "You're more tense than I've ever seen you." Kurt observed. His voice dropped to a quietly furious tone and the question Blaine should have expected. "Does your dad really scare you this much?"

It was a fair question. Blaine wasn't sure of the answer. He had a good memories of his father, no one could hate that smile. He also knew what Jack did, the life he led. Blaine ahd grown up knowing too much about the universe. He'd held a real, albeit unloaded, gun when he was four years old. He'd gone on 'adventures' at least once a month where he dealt with a pseudo crisis for the past eleven years. He was a soldier, a child of time they'd been called once...and it was Jack's fault. Did his dad scare him? "No. It's just...trouble tends to follow him."

He'd hoped, in all this, that one particular question wouldn't be asked. So of course, Kurt took the opportunity to ask "What kind of trouble?" There was no way to answer that honestly without explaining far too much. Blaine fell silent, hoping Kurt would just forget the question and let it go. "Blaine?"

On the other hand, there were cover stories. "Dad works for the British Government. Special Ops." Close enough, maybe. Not enough of an answer for Kurt, who was watching him with quiet confusion. Blaine felt the uncertainty, and guilt began. He owed Kurt better than this, owed him the whole story. Except Blaine had gone and fallen in love with a skeptic who would never believe him. He'd even hoped Kurt would never have to believe him, but now, with Jack here, memories of monsters several times Blaine's size, bright lights in the sky, a sick green glow and so many buttons overwhelmed him. He hadn't actually known then, he hadn't understood. He couldn't make Kurt go through anything like that. Jack was a threat, because with him came crisis.

Reluctantly, Blaine pulled away from the magical massage and took Kurt's hands in his. Kurt's eyes reflected more confusion than Blaine felt alright causing him, and just a little bit of fear that Blaine wanted nothing more than to protect him from. Still...

"Kurt..." he began, squeezing soft, pale hands between his. "No matter what happens tonight, no matter what I'm about to tell you, you need to know more than anything how much I love you."

Kurt squeezed back. "Blaine...you're scaring me. This feels like it's turning into some mean joke."

"I'm sorry." words were ahead of thoughts now, because if he thought about what he was doing he'd realize what a bad idea it was. "I swear though, on whatever you want me to swear on, everything I'm about to tell you is true."

"Just tell me." Kurt asked breathlessly.

The lights flickered again, and Blaine explained everything.


	4. Chapter 4

Finn's head pounded. His vision blurred and the words on the page ran together. The flickering lights weren't helping. In fact, every time they switched off, Finn felt like something exploded in his brain. Then the power just clicked off. For a moment all was well. Finn's vision cleared, the pain vanished and he released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. A soft whisper replaced the pounding.

Then the lights, all power came back all at once and the pain...it felt like Finn had been hit in the face with a branding iron. He screamed and grabbed his head, his weight shifted and the chair tipped under him, dumping him onto the floor. He curled up, kicked out, moaning and clinging to his calp. Sometime during the blinding pain, Burt came to stand over him, reassuring, strong hands on his arms and shoulders, pulling him to reality, any reality besides the pain in his hand. "Are you okay?" Finn finally heard Burt ask.

Nodding felt like trying to bend a lead pipe. "Yeah" he reassured. He winced at his own voice, both from its volume and from how weak he sounded. It felt weird, feeling Burt's large hand do the mom check-for-fever thing. "I'm fine."

"No." Burt replied, and suddenly Finn felt Burt supporting about half his eight. "You're not fine." Just like that Finn was vertical and half walking half being carried to his room. His face hadn't been hot before when Burt checked but now he was blushing furiously. He was being helped into bed like he was a little kid. He saw his mom's concerned expression. Then he was being eased onto his side. He curled up and felt Burt's hand on his back. His step-father's voice was low and strangely soothing and it pushed through the pain in Finn's skull. "What happened? Do you want me to turn the lights off? Has this happened before?"

"No" Finn murmured, his own voice was still too loud. Burt was obviously terrified and, really, it was just a headache. A blinding, crippling headache, certainly, but nothing he should have been half carried to bed for. He shifted and looked up at Burt. His gut twisted at the look of subdued terror on Burt's face. He winced as he whispered "I'm Sorry."

"No problem" Burt assured him. Finn closed his eyes, as much against the aching knowledge that this man wasn't really his father as against the steady beating his skull was inflicting on his brain. Burt stood slowly, then quietly even to Finn's sensitive head "I'll come check on you before we start dinner." Finn could hear Burt's footfalls as he left. The lights were off in the room now and for a moment, the pain lessened. Fin's mind cleared just long enough for him to wonder what the hell was happening to him.

Then the whispering started. Tiny, skittering, indistinguishable voices all talking at once in his head. The pain increased and there was the sound of someone moaning. Finn wasn't entirely aware that it was him. Head under his hands, Finn curled to protect himself. He just had no idea what he was trying to protect himself from. Then, one voice, unfamiliar, as scratchy and terrible as the rest cut through the pain over the rest of them. The words should have been chilling, this whole situation should have terrified him. Yet somehow, when Finn heard the words "We Will Rise" he took a strange sort of comfort, and the pain lessened further. "We Will Rise" repeated the voice. Finn knew, in all of the logical places in his head that whatever that raspy, skittering voice belonged to was not something he wanted rising. Those places had all been flooded with pain though. To him, the voice that said "We Will Rise and you will help us." was making a perfectly reasonable request.

Just above a whisper, he asked aloud "What can I do?"


End file.
